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The Ritual, Tribal Abandonment of Mothers

I have this friend named Mark Brady who cares a lot about parents. Since I have four children and we are friends, he often asks me to review some of the things that he writes to see how it plays in Peoria (so to speak). Sometimes I give him a hard time. Anyway, my friend Mark is a very smart guy who helps parents be better parents and understand more about the real nature of children. He knows a lot about neuroscience and neuro-development. His heart is not too bad either. He is probably the most generous person I have ever met. Not only that, he has written several great books on listening (one published by Wisdom Publications entitled, The Wisdom of Listening, appropriately enough… I wholeheartedly recommend it). Anyway, one day in the middle of parenting frustration I wrote to him saying “Hey, Mark, how about putting together a book for people on holding compassionate listening space for parents? A little book of skills for listening to and actually supporting parents.” To which he answered (in a very Mark-like way), “Say more about this. I like this idea a lot.” And somehow that challenge developed into this short essay.

I have a lot to say about how our culture fails to support or listen to parents. I am not sure when I first noticed that this was a problem. Maybe it was 20 years ago after the birth of my first child, when I noticed that none of my intellectual friends called me anymore. Overnight I became an untouchable, as if something about me as a mother was beyond what they could manage. Maybe it was one of my first airplane trips with a toddler when I noticed people rolling their eyes and visibly recoiling from the idea that they might have to sit near us. Maybe it was in the way that well-meaning grandparents undermined the establishment of breastfeeding (and my confidence in myself as a sufficient mother) by constantly commenting that the baby was hungry and needed a bottle, until I finally relented. Maybe it was the way that people on subways offered unsolicited criticism and advice as I struggled to handle my child’s behavior, or commented loudly and critically to one another about our struggles. These are but a few of many such examples. Another way of saying this is that the energetic space that I lived in as a parent seemed to become very small somehow, and this did not seem right at all.

Once, feeling deeply into and expressing the vague sorrow and isolation I felt as a parent trying to handle four young children (most often alone) a wise friend said to me “Oh…now I understand. You are talking about the ritual, tribal abandonment of mothers.” The ritual, tribal abandonment of mothers! That phrase hit my consciousness like a sledge and remains alive to this day. It expressed what I felt better than anything I’d ever heard. Since then, whenever I have used that phrase to describe the feeling I have seen on the faces of other young mothers, it has elicited a similar “aha!” – a momentary stunned look of surprise that such deeply felt sorrow could be named so succinctly.

Yes, it is about the tribe leaving me alone with all of the tasks of raising these children. Yes it is about the tidal wave of tribal projections onto me as a mother and their longing for me to take care of THEM. Yes, it is about tribal fear of touching into this need and sometimes this pain. Yes, it is about feeling alone with a task that feels impossible to do well alone. Yes, the tribe has resigned from its role in the life of my children and from its needed and necessary role in supporting me.

“For God’s sake,” I thought, “this isn’t the way that children should be raised.” It is my idea that children in a healthy culture need to be raised, not just by parents or mothers, but by communities of adults supporting each other in the tasks. As I reflect on it, the operational word in that last sentence seems to be the word “adults.” Indeed as more and more people struggle to reach a true maturity and a capacity for holding and expressing compassion, it is harder and harder to find others willing to show up for the collective task of being an adult caring for children.

One of the tasks of adulthood of course, is skillfully listening. This is why I really like my friend Mark. He not only has shown up to be an adult who cares about parents and children, he is a wise and expert listener and teacher of listening skills. And there is probably no better way to counteract the contracting space around parents than to listen to them. Not by judging, or telling, or instructing, or giving me long lists of expectations for improving my child’s performance (like many teachers, schools and politicians are prone to do), or by watching while holding your heart at bay, but by entering into a true compassionate holding. Even in silence. Even in public.

I have a picture in my mind that will probably never leave until the day I develop dementia. It is a scene from when my children were young. I happened to be in a mall without them. I saw a mother with a baby in a stroller and a two year old in full tantrum running for the escalator. It was one of those scenes full of pathos, wherein a mother just has to “miraculate” some kind of response out of simple desperation. We all saw it. That is when I heard two women in front of me talking. One said: “I remember those days.” And the other one, probably in inner recoil from memory of her own abandonment, coolly responded “Yeah … I’m glad those days are over.” I remember feeling in that disengaged assessment the perfect expression of the ritual, tribal abandonment of mothers. It was not that someone had to be there to help that mother physically. We were too far away. It was that there in public, witnessing hearts did not extend out in compassion. Kind hearts did not listen to a silent plea for understanding, holding and help. In my mind there is no better way to help children than learning this adult act of silent holding and loving witness for their parents. I think that my friend Mark would say: “What is listening if it is not that?” And I would agree with him.

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I read this post shortly after giving birth to my daughter (oh goodness, more than two years ago). My mother had died just a few weeks before my daughter’s birth; it was a rough time. I can’t tell you how many times I have thought back to this post and how much it has helped to know that I am not alone in the tough situation of….well….whatever the opposite of community support is, aptly titled in your blog post. Thank you!!!

this is very powerfull. I gave birth to my first child before 30 and boy did my husband and I get a lot of well, your young you’ll learn..and a ton of what we should do but not much of a lot of support and compassion. I grew a thick skin fast. in a perfect world we should expect love and compassion from all as well as give it gladly but for so many of us this action is taught and frankly both my parents had their heads so far up there A** that I didn’t stand a chance. Now with 6 yrs under my belt which is not much and 3 with #2 I still feel at times a novice and a beginner. and I embrace that I don’t know it all and that’s ok. I seek out moms who i feel can support me and sometimes I’m very wrong but i am not going to give up on finding that special mom or group of moms who can give us all what we so desire. acceptance. love. companionship. guidance. and a feeling of gee the milk is spilt for the 13th time today but it’s ok your not a bad mother or father. This too shall pass.
Thank you
Namaste

Yes, I remember it well, even though I became a mother many years ago.

Today, at age 77, I am facing another abandonment. My only living child is 39 years old, and I have not been able to contact him for about three months. My son is single; his mail comes here to my house, but he no longer comes by to pick it up.

In late August my son kindly took me for a scan. It showed a lung spot and raised the possibility of cancer–I was a smoker until 15 years ago. There will be another scan in a month.

My son, whose father abandoned us and made me a single parent, hated my smoking with a passion. I’m sad to say I was not able to kick the habit early on, try though I might.

I have left two VoiceMail messages on my son’s phone, and yesterday I finally sent him an e-mail. I want to know that he is okay and anything else he’s willing to share.

Many people on a lung cancer web site acknowledge that close relatives and friends, on hearing a diagnosis, choose to become “missing in action” out of fear and a wish to deny.

Also, some of them blame the victim for smoking, and have the attitude, “Okay, you brought it on yourself, now deal with it.” (This despite the fact that not all lung cancer patients are former smokers.)

Great article! I’ve often felt this, especially, as mentioned on long flights.

This trend is more observable in the US, though many European countries are quickly following suit.

Something that hasn’t been said: The fact is, much of the AP community actively encourages mamas to go it alone; getting outside help is often treated as a failure to attach properly to one’s children.

This article and the sentiments of this article need to be blasted across the front of every single magazine and newspaper in the United States.

I blog about having kids and dealing with depression and trying to find spiritual peace and mental clarity in this confusing, treacherous period of modern parenthood. A lot of women talk to me about their experiences, and I do a lot of research, and what I am hearing over and over again is this:”Why do I need to be medicated to handle being a mom? Why can’t I just buck up like my grandmothers/mother/aunts did? They didn’t ask for help, why should I need to?”

Answer: The ritual, tribal abandonment of mothers. Being a mother now is not the same as it was 30 or 50 years ago.

Many of us now have children far away from our families, often in new cities where we just moved so we could afford a house or because our or our partner’s job has sent us there. We are left alone with our books and the Internet. Our world shrinks and often no one is around to give us perspective. We think, well, I guess this is motherhood and we commence to do our best to muddle though. Alone. We don’t think to ask for help of any kind. We don’t think we should have to.

Thank you for writing and publishing this articulate and timely article!

oh my! i am holding back tears… so beautifully written. I am going to send this to everyone I know!

I remember reading on Thich Naht Hanh’s web site hearing a child fussing is an opportunity to practice. Think of that mother loving her child and the child loving their mother.

My oldest son was just around one when I read that, and I decided right then and there that I would visualize love and connection between the child and parent during any public parenting moment. I notice that I am especially keen to do it on the airplane — I just see a mom and kid and send them all the good vibes I can to counteract all the negativity coming at them.

I now have two children under five years old — I have been relentless in making connections with other moms and families (new parents’ groups, homeschooling community, neighborhood, etc.) but I still almost always feel “alone” in this parenting endeavor.

We recently saw the Dalai Lama during a Seeds of Compassion event in Seattle, and I wrote on my blog about this very topic (the ritual, tribal abandonment of mothers) without directly naming it! Because what I felt during the Dalai Lama’s presentation was the opposite — imagine if every one around you expected — and gave — compassion. Unbelievable. Here is what I wrote: http://mama-om.blogspot.com/2008/04/seeds-of-compassion.html.

I belong to an organization, the National Association of Mothers’ Centers (NAMC) MothersCenter, that has been addressing the ritual, tribal abandonment of mothers since 1975. We represent a network of mother-to-mother programs throughout the country that bring mothers together for discussion of their real experiences, both joyful and challenging. The guidelines promoted in our model promote include active listening, non-judgmental communication, assumption of each other’s good intentions and sharing of information, experiences and expertise. Mothers can then choose what might work for them based on what they’ve heard from other mothers. The communication skills learned through group discussion are useable in parenting, in relationships with partners and colleagues, and can be applied in conflict resolution, team-building, and negotiating situations.

These programs are started by mothers in their communities and can be large groups meeting in public spaces or small groups meeting in homes. Besides practical discussions about our experiences we also begin to get the “bigger picture” of the lack of supports and lack of value placed on mothering work and caregiving in general. These programs ARE the support system that is lacking and they create a welcoming and supportive environment that is generally missing. And the Mothers’ Center culture then begins to pervade the community in which it operates, affecting local nursery school boards and PTA meetings, local families and businesses.

The benefit of having a national organization is that the NAMC can amplify the voices of mothers and speak up for their needs. We focus in a larger way on the advocacy issues that impact on mothers and other caregivers. In 2002 we created an advocacy initiative called MOTHERSto educate the public about the economic impact of being a caregiver. It is exactly this abandonment of caregivers in numerous ways that results in motherhood being the biggest risk factor for female poverty in old age.

We also have a blog MOTHERS Book Bagwith books related to mothers’ and women’s issues, interviews with authors, book reviews, as well as guidelines and discussion questions to create a local book group.

Learn about these issues, work for change, join or start a Mothers Center program in your area, join the NAMC and show your support of the value of mothering and caregiving work. Visit us.

I never really thought about my experience as a mom in this way, although when you describe this sort of abandonment, I felt it resonating throughout my body. I’m still a young mom ( kids ages 7 and 9) and realize how accustomed I am to this abandonment. So accustomed to it, that whenever someone does say to me “Don’t know how you do it…single mom…you are amazing” I pretty much shrug it off. I just do what I do.
Your post reminds me when my son was about a year old. I was feeling this abandonment powerfully and was looking for a way to empower myself and other moms. I felt that I had sacrificed everything I was to this little child and signed up for it wholeheartedly. What I didn’t realize when I joined this ancient club of mothers, is that it would feel so lonely, that I wouldn’t be fulfilled, that I wouldn’t know who I was anymore.
So, I created a support group for Moms at my church. My goal was for us to have support and some time to just focus on us, as women, for a while. To talk about our hopes, dreams, whatever, and be listened to. What I found was that these Moms couldn’t/wouldn’t make the time for this. The whole thing dwindled, quickly.
I think this has to do with this abandonment thing. We are giving so much to our children that we don’t have anything left to give to each other. Or, perhaps, it’s never been modeled well. When we were the ones with the child having a meltdown in mall, no one reassured us with an understanding smile. It seems to be some “rite of passage” to get through…”I did it without support…so must you” kind of thing. And so we accept it, and shut up about it. We unconsciously keep this cycle of abandonment going.

Thanks Jeanne for bringing this topic to the surface. I didn’t realize there was so much lingering there with me.

I never really thought about my experience as a mom in this way, although when you describe this sort of abandonment, I felt it resonating throughout my body. I’m still a young mom ( kids ages 7 and 9) and realize how accustomed I am to this abandonment. So accustomed to it, that whenever someone does say to me “Don’t know how you do it…single mom…you are amazing” I pretty much shrug it off. I just do what I do.
Your post reminds me when my son was about a year old. I was feeling this abandonment powerfully and was looking for a way to empower myself and other moms. I felt that I had sacrificed everything I was to this little child and signed up for it wholeheartedly. What I didn’t realize when I joined this ancient club of mothers, is that it would feel so lonely, that I wouldn’t be fulfilled, that I wouldn’t know who I was anymore.
So, I created a support group for Moms at my church. My goal was for us to have support and some time to just focus on us, as women, for a while. To talk about our hopes, dreams, whatever, and be listened to. What I found was that these Moms couldn’t/wouldn’t make the time for this. The whole thing dwindled, quickly.
I think this has to do with this abandonment thing. We are giving so much to our children that we don’t have anything left to give to each other. Or, perhaps, it’s never been modeled well. When we were the ones with the child having a meltdown in mall, no one reassured us with an understanding smile. It seems to be some “rite of passage” to get through…”I did it without support…so must you” kind of thing. And so we accept it, and shut up about it. We unconsciously keep this cycle of abandonment going.

Thanks Jeanne for bringing this topic to the surface. I didn’t realize there was so much lingering there with me.

As a mother who raised four children (born less than four years apart, with twins to boot) on my own after the collapse of my marriage, I know and remember all too well the ritual tribal abandonment of mothers. I was alone with 3 year old twins, and a 5 and 6 year old. The task of taking care of them was overwhelming, and unrelenting. Frankly, some of the wounds I experienced did not begin to heal until I met Dr. Brady and became a student of his listening class while on my way to my doctorate. Dr. Brady listens far better than I do, but I realized that one of the ways I made sense of my isolation was to listen to my kids. I mean, really listen to them. They were always able to tell me who they really were, because they trusted me. Why can’t we give that same trust to others, especially to mothers? Mothers aren’t supposed to say that they are tired of their kids, or that they don’t have all the answers. We expect far more of them than we do of dads. Just look at the headlines of female celebs who ‘screw’ up. Brit is ‘going to hell’ for being a ‘bad’ mom while no one writes much about the celeb dads who ‘mess up.’ Mothers carry a much bigger moral burden, yet we don’t offer them the gift of listening, support, compassion or understanding. And they need it. I hope Dr. Brady writes a book on how to listen to parents. Esp. listening to moms. I hope he asks me to co-write again with him. It’s a topic I would love to add my voice to. Thanks Jeanne, for a wonderful post. Safe travels, Dr. Brady.

I cannot remember those days very clearly. What I have found though is that since I gave custody of my son to my sister that I am kind of having an identity crisis. I know I am still the mom. But being a mom and not having my son doesnt feel very momish.

Also my extended family, my church, my son’s school and the people I regularly hang out with have all helped in raising my son. For that I am grateful.

There is a lot of gossip and intolerance that I put my son into my sisters care. And finding my own personal help in the community is hard now that I do not have custody anymore. The services I used to use were only for parents – now I am considered a single person.